


Anything Else

by lessthanthemeanest-ghost (ClariNevermore)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Bellatrix is a ghost, Gen, Tom is a night guard at a graveyard, harry is a ghost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-07-12 00:41:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7077409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClariNevermore/pseuds/lessthanthemeanest-ghost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom Riddle watches over the graveyard in Little Hangleton every night. To his dismay, he isn't alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anything Else

Tom Riddle was not afraid of the dark.

He actually quite enjoyed it. He could go about his business without having to deal with any of the townsfolk of Little Hangleton. How such abrasive, invasive revolting mounds of flesh came from the same species as him, he would ever know. The thought of delinquents, monsters, or wild animals never crossed his mind while he was in the shadows, as he knew that he was capable of defending himself. No, the only thing that bothered him was when the feeling of being watched crept up on him, every night at 2:31 am, like clockwork. And, unfortunately for him, it was time for the 2 am patrol of the graveyard. He adjusted his coat around his shoulders, hooked a finger through the handle of his lantern, and made his way outside.

Although cold, it was a lovely night. An array of fallen leaves coloured the ground, carefully raked away from the tombstones. He paused as he visually scanned the grounds for any trespassers, but the air was still. The chill of the autumn night burrowed through his gloves, and he pressed on.

As leaves crunched underfoot, he made his way along the perimeter of the grounds. Moonlight bathed weathered tombstones sprouted from the ground, some so old that they were no longer legible. Wrought iron fences rose far above his head, with dramatic spikes poised to impale any fool that thought graveyard mischief was a good idea. 

He was just reaching the far side of the graveyard when he heard a snapping sound behind him that fell out of rhythm with his own stride. He turned, raising his lantern, and just at the edges of its reach he could make out a figure.

"The graveyard is closed. Leave." Tom said firmly, dark eyes locked on the silhouette of a young man. His heart was pounding in his chest, though his voice didn't falter. After a moment of the intruder standing perfectly still, Tom advanced towards him a few steps.

"I'm not going to ask you twice."

Still nothing. The silence was deafening, nothing to be heard but empty space and his own, very carefully controlled breathing. The man simply faced him, unmoving. Steeling himself, Tom's hand slipped into his pocket for a moment to grasp his knife,reassuring himself that he had brought it with him tonight. He'd never used one before, but he was thankful that the man who'd retired from this position had insisted on passing it on to him. Anger began to boil in his chest. It was one thing for trespassers to be disrespectful and to protest upon being caught, but the person in front of him.. it was unnerving, but he would not be ignored.

Moving toward him once more, he closed the distance between them, snatched the man's arm, and swept past him toward the gates, intent on throwing him out, forcibly dragging him if he must.

His fingers closed around nothing.

Something jolted within him, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Spinning to get a better look at the other man, he reached out again, only to feel a tendril of panic curl through him as his fingers simply passed through his arm. He narrowed his eyes slightly upon noticing that the man had finally given him his attention. His eyes were emerald green, glimmering in the lanternlight.

“No.”

Despite his being non-corporeal, his voice was solid. If it weren’t for the fact that Tom’s clenched fist was still phased through his arm, he would have seemed to be an average human being.

“Excuse me?” Tom hissed, yanking his arm back, noting that the man’s bicep unnervingly whisped away with it like smoke, then reform a moment later. He drew the knife from his pocket, not brandishing it at him but holding it just high enough to ensure that the man -was he a man? - knew that he had it. 

"I said no. I couldn't leave if i wanted to anyway, I'm stuck here. And believe me, I do want to. Haunting a graveyard is boring when the groundskeeper chases away all the interesting people!" The thing had the gall to glare at him. "The name's Harry, by the way."

Harry. Haunting.

Tom Riddle was not afraid if the dark.  
Tom Riddle was afraid of _ghosts._

Thankfully, he was not the average man and would never let anyone see enough to realize how erratically his thoughts were racing.

"You're a ghost." Tom stated simply, exactly the opposite of what was going through his head right now. The intruder - Harry - nodded, a brilliant grin streching across his face and his posture relaxing.

"Yeah, that's me. I died fourteen years ago." Harry said. He seemed to be offering up a lot of information compared to how Tom was shutting down, maybe he could sense it and was trying to make himself seem like less of a threat. He knew he wasn't lying, because how else could he put his entire hand through his arm? Twice? Tom wasn't having it.

Without another word, he started making his way toward his guard shack, vowing to inform the officials at the neighboring church that he was quitting the very next morning. Spectres, ghosts of the dead, manifesting to torment the living. He couldn't handle it. Humans and monsters could be hurt. They could bleed, and if something could bleed then he could kill it. 

"Hey, where are you going?!"

Tom didn't hesitate, and the rustling behind him of the ghost trampling through the leaves only spurred him onward.

"Come on, stop and let me talk to you! Give us a chance!"

Us? Oh, god.

He stashed his knife in his pocket in exchange for keys, quickly selected the one he that matched the door, and made his way inside. After slamming the door shut behind him, he flicked the lock and the deadbolt until the door was secure once more. With a sigh, he closed his eyes, turned and leaned his back against the door, willing the knot of fear in his chest to loosen.

"You know, your house doesn't match your personality at all."

Tom choked, snapping his eyes up to see that it was still here. It had followed him inside. It was inside his house. Where he slept.

Fuck.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first time posting something I've written. All constructive feedback is welcome and appreciated! Kudos as well. ♡ I know it's pitiful for a first chapter and there likely won't be very many, but oh well. :)
> 
> Thank you for reading!  
> -Clari


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